rise and root

***

~*~*~*~



The Flame Haired Solstice Dreamer

Cold winter brings the Everfrost and jewels every tree
In a forest new as birth and old as old can be
A flame~haired dreamer wanders there and shelters from the wind
And spins her dreams around the trees to break the ties that bind
She takes her thread and spins anew and how the Greenwood smiles
As she spins a spell for freedom and for her spirit Wylde

The dreamer finds an ancient oak and shelters in his lee
In a forest new as birth and old as old can be
Tis summer now and birdsong weaves its magick through her spells
And humming bees drum drowsily in the foxglove's bells
The dreamer sits beneath the oak with yarn upon her knee
And spins and knits and weaves her dreams and sets her spirit free

***
"When birds fall from the sky and the animals are dying, a new tribe of people...shall come unto the earth from many colors, classes, creeds, who by their actions and deeds shall make the earth green again. they will be known as the warriors of the Rainbow"

Hopi Prophecy

~its still there...~



*a walk last autumn*


...the inkling of autumn that is~the weeks that find us saying goodbye to summer & preparing ourselves for the autumn equinox

this morning i opened the back door that leads into my sacred garden (well developing sacred garden~its taking longer than i thought getting it right) & wandered out in my pyjamas, loving the sound and smell.
we have no noise of passing traffic or people, just the occasional whistle of a steam train as it thunders its way west to destination unknown.

the birds were a veritable chorus-even when i walk out they stay in the tree's, in the bushes, on the fence and watch me as i do the rounds~checking the wild tangle of color & scent, enjoying the damp grass, look up at the sky framing our friends truly enormous oak tree.

i look at my fledgling garden shrine~i am not happy with it really, probably because i have in my minds eye what it will be like-hopefully by samhain-and like many things in life it wont feel 'right' until it is the shrine of my imagining...

then i imagine my celebrations as i follow the wheel from festival to festival-will they be better? in what way? i hope so-i finally have a very secluded garden so will have freedom. not for anything elaborate, but all the same...privacy for my solitary, peaceful path.

~now here i sit, in what has become known as 'my room'~a study come library, with piles of books hidden behind blue gingham curtains~sitting at a big, round, solid wood table;there sit my books waiting to be opened, there is my indoor shrine (again, not over enamoured with it right now) & to my left the open window with a fine breeze blowing in on me~the sky is bright blue with puffs of pinky-white clouds passing high up.

so what will the day hold for this pagan in the new forest?

some study~a walk into the village for bread & dog food~possibly a trip out to hurn airport near bournemouth to watch the red arrows & war time planes take off & land~mundane things, everyday things...

...but all the time my mind is full of 'other'~of pagan imaginings...

1 comment:

Mel said...

Oh but that seems utterly blissful to me...the solitude, the silence (other than the birds' chorus), a little room of your own...

*sigh*

And the shrines will come together over time...for me, they're a naturally evolving thing, not something that can be just 'set up'. Know what I mean?

~love~

All things share the same breath~the beast, the tree, the man, the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports.



Chief Seattle






Johney Gaul~1915

Johney Gaul~1915
1890-17 september 1918~France